


Under My Skin

by Ciasquare



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciasquare/pseuds/Ciasquare
Summary: When they arrived here, Father had pulled them aside before entering the audience chamber with Lady Rhea."Look kid,” Father started, “it is likely that the Church will ask us to stay and I’m not about to refuse the Archbishop to her face." He paused to consider his words, "If we do stay here, it’s going to be…” He ran a hand through his hair, looking a touch distressed, “The people here are nice, but they are not kind to those who are different. Remember that and be careful, always.”At the time, Byleth just frowned and gave him a brief nod, but now, they were beginning to understand. Life at the monastery was different what they were used to.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Under My Skin

When they arrived here, Father had pulled them aside before entering the audience chamber with Lady Rhea.

"Look kid,” Father started, “it is likely that the Church will ask us to stay and I’m not about to refuse the Archbishop to her face." He paused to consider his words, "If we do stay here, it’s going to be…” He ran a hand through his hair, looking a touch distressed, “The people here are nice, but they are not kind to those who are different. Remember that and be careful, always.”

At the time, Byleth just frowned and gave him a brief nod, but now, they were beginning to understand. Life at the monastery was different what they were used to.

As mercenaries, Byleth could choose how they wanted to present themselves. Since they were a child, Father never restricted them. Most days they felt ambivalent, but on the days they felt like a man, they could wear Father’s clothes and tie up their hair. Their employers never paid attention to the silent child standing next to her mountain of a father and their band of mercenaries couldn’t care less how Byleth looked like as long as they held their own when the fighting started.

Byleth's ever fluid gender was why the rumours of the Ashen Demon could never settle on how they appeared. Sothis snickered at this.

 _“Mortals are ever so concerned with the oddest things,”_ she mused.

Byleth sighed in agreement. The oddest things indeed. In the monastery, it was much harder to present differently. So far, it hadn't been a problem, but this morning they'd caught sight of themselves in the fishing pond and that had been… uncomfortable. They curled up to their side in the bed as they recalled it, pressing the blanket to their face. Sothis' sympathy and understanding flooded through them.

_"You could say you are ill, could you not?"_

Byleth nodded, _"It is a good suggestion. I will tell Seteth I am not feeling well."_ They rolled over to lay on their back and stare at the ceiling, willing themselves to get dressed. The very idea seemed like an insurmountable obstacle.

_"Go on then. Best get this over with quickly."_

Byleth sighed, but swung their legs over the edge of the bed. They tied up their hair and wore their usual armoured bodice while trying to keep their eyes averted, relying on Sothis to tell them how to adjust it. Before they left the room, they put on their coat instead of slinging it around their shoulders, hoping that its roominess would hide their figure.

 _"You look very handsome,"_ Sothis consoled as they opened the door. Byleth felt like ducking back into their room immediately.

_"Don't be condescending. I know how I look."_

_"Hmph,"_ Sothis huffed with an injured air, _"at the least you do look ill. I hope for your sake that Seteth will not be insufferable."_

When they reached Seteth's office, Father was there with him, discussing strategy in low tones though the door was wide open. There was a map spread out on the desk and Byleth recognised Father's handmade pawns standing around the Airmid River. Byleth bit their lip and rapped on the door to announce their presence. The conversation stopped abruptly as both men looked up.

"Oh it is only you." Seteth returned his eyes to the map, "We are in the middle of something. Please wait, I will see you shortly."

Unlike Seteth, Father did not look away and they could feel his gaze travel from their dishevelled hair to their loose coat and fidgeting hands. Ashamed, they began to draw the door shut, but Father signalled them to stop.

"Actually Seteth, I do believe my child is looking for me," Father said, turning to face them. "Are you sick?"

Byleth flashed him a small, grateful smile and nodded, "Yes. I think it was something I ate."

Seteth glanced up at them, no doubt observing all the details Father had already noticed. "Oh dear, you should visit Manuela. The infirmary is just down the hall."

"There is no need for that. I'm sure Manuela has enough on her hands. I heard there was an incident at the training grounds this morning," Father said, casually lying through his teeth, "Byleth is sensitive to milk and cheese, nothing to worry Manuela about. A few days rest and she will be right as rain."

Byleth tugged at their coat, trying to ignore their rising discomfort at being addressed as 'she', "Could I have the week to rest?" They asked as they fidgeted. Father mouthed an apology and Byleth gave him a wan smile.

 _"Please,"_ Sothis prompted with a sigh, _"You are hopeless."_

"Please," Byleth stiffly added.

Seteth did not look up from the map, "Yes, yes… Now Jeralt, our intelligence suggests that they intend to attack from this direction. Could I get your opinion on this strategy to counter… Byleth, please shut the door on your way out. Thank you."

They closed the door and exhaled a breath they did not know they had been holding. In their head, Sothis hummed tonelessly, pleased that their confrontation had gone so well. _"It is lucky that your father was there just then, was it not? I do not believe it would have gone quite so easily were you alone."_

Byleth nodded, but their thoughts were already on the dreaded week ahead. Sothis sensed this and sighed, _"Come now, let us try to be optimistic about things. Perhaps it will not be so bad this time."_

It was bad.

* * *

Claude knocked on Teach’s door and waited, not at all deterred by the lack of response. He had learned that Teach was not the sort waste breath on a polite “I’m coming!” or “Who is it?” and god, it never got old watching people leave before she could answer the door.

Once Seteth had come looking for her and impatiently left, having assumed that she was not in her room. Teach had looked so confused when she opened the door to empty air. It only got better when Seteth came by again later, all red from searching the entire monastery. He had looked so annoyed when he saw Teach leave her room for the greenhouse. It was a fantastic comedy of errors. Claude had almost outright laughed in the middle of the conversation with Hilda he was using as an excuse to loiter around Teach's room.

Hilda would not be pleased if she ever found out that he had used her as his cover. As it was, she was firmly of the opinion that Claude was far too obsessed with their new homeroom teacher and was fond of accusing him of being a stalker any time Claude voiced any observations about the professor. In fact, Hilda probably had some choice words for him about what he was doing right now, but this time it really wasn't to satisfy his curiosity. The professor had been acting odd lately, as in even more so than usual.

It had all started when she called in sick for the whole of last week. Far be it from Claude to suggest that Teach was impervious to disease, but it was very strange that even Professor Manuela could not tell him what had happened to her. Only Jeralt seemed to know anything and he had just told him that Teach wasn't "feeling herself." 

Like father like daughter, Claude supposed. Men of little words.

Then came the weekend and Teach had… rested. Rested! When Claude brought this up to the class, Lorenz had rolled his eyes so hard that Claude was surprised they hadn't fallen out the back of his head. 

"Just because _you_ are fond of concocting hare-brained schemes, doesn't mean that the professor is plotting anything by _resting_ ," Lorenz scoffed, "Surely, even with your dim wit you must realise that this only supports her assertion that she is not well."

Claude snorted as he picked at a stray thread on his sleeve with more force than was necessary. Lorenz was the one with the dim wit as far as he was concerned. Apparently no one else had noticed that Teach had a pretty fixed schedule that she had stuck to every single moon since she had arrived. On the first weekend of every moon, she always went for a spot of fishing, did a little gardening, went for choir practice with a couple of students, catch a bite with some other students, help out the head cook with whichever willing volunteer and then go around the monastery, talking to everyone she met. The following weekends she would usually take the class for a battle to get some practical experience, organise a seminar on the weekend after and then on the last week they would get a break to rest up before their big mission. If the mission was a particularly arduous one, perhaps she would rest 2 weekends in a row.

But last weekend was the first weekend of the moon and Teach had **rested**! She hadn't even gone to the greenhouse! 

Teach did reappear the next week, though not of her own volition. Claude knew this because he had chanced upon Seteth leaving Teach’s room last week and followed him to eavesdrop on his conversation with Rhea. It was a wonder that Seteth had not exploded from repressed indignation during his clipped report to Rhea that he had rejected the professor’s application for a further week of leave.

So Teach came back to work, except Teach might as well not have come back at all. It was like she was on autopilot. During their weekday instructions, instead of adjusting for the weaknesses apparent from previous battles like she commonly did, she just brushed them up on things they were already good at. She was so out of it Claude even found her monotonously giving Shamir instructions on archery, completely oblivious to the assassin’s mounting irritation. She had rejected Lysithea’s request to be a Gremory, despite the kid being more qualified than anyone for the class and when Lorenz came to her for advice, she dismissed him in flat tones. On the weekend, Claude was really hoping that Teach might deign to organise a seminar, but instead she holed herself in her room once more. Something was clearly wrong.

So now, Claude was here, at her door, a thousand pointed questions on his tongue…

Until she opened the door and all the words left him.

Teach looked like hell. It was obvious she hadn’t showered in some time. Her usually tidy dark hair was greasy and pulled back into a haphazard bun at the back of her head. She was actually wearing her coat. Properly wearing it. It dwarfed her. Her eyes were dull and she kept avoiding eye contact even as she croaked out a short, “Yes?” and visibly winced at the sound of her voice.

“Woah, Teach. You don’t look so good.”

She made a non-committal grunt in the back of her throat and leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms clearly telegraphing, _"Well?"_

He coughed. “Uh, I was just, uh around here, in the classroom and uh, I’d thought I’d drop by, um… See how you were doing. I heard you weren’t feeling well,” he tried sheepishly.

She nodded, pushing herself off the doorframe and stepping back into her room. “I’m fine,” she said curtly and moved to close the door, prompting Claude to spring forward, slotting his foot into the gap, “Hey, wait wait, what’s the rush? No time for your favourite student?”

She looked up at that, a fair amount of annoyance sneaking into her expression. Claude backtracked fast, “I’m just worried, Teach. You’ve been so distracted. Is something bothering you?”

The professor bit her lip and stared at her shoes. “It is not something you can help with,” she finally said in a low voice.

Claude frowned. “How would you know that when you haven’t even told me what’s wrong?”

There was a long silence as she considered his words, then she opened the door wider, motioning for him to come in.

Claude looked around curiously as he walked in. He had never been into her room before. Teach’s room was spartan. There were a few notebooks open on her desk and a neatly organised bulletin board, but every other surface was bare and clean. There weren’t any flowers around despite her love of them, or any other kind of decoration. Old habits die hard, Claude assumed. Teach did grow up as a wandering mercenary.

She pulled out the only chair in the room for him and sat on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked so small and miserable, a far cry from their confident professor. It was suddenly easy to remember that Teach was close to them in age despite being their professor, also needing that guidance and support she so freely gave.

“I don’t like how I look like. This week.” Teach said haltingly, startling Claude out of his reverie.

“You look great, Teach!” The professor pursed her lips at this and Claude amended quickly, “What don’t you like about how you look?”

“Everything,” she said in an almost whisper, “I wish I didn’t look so much like a girl.”

Claude’s eyes widened in surprise, but his mouth curved into a grin. Of course. He looked at her, trying to figure out what to say, but her eyes were still downcast and she started to fidget with her blanket, having missed Claude’s reaction to her confession.

“Claude, I’m fine. I… will be. Fine.” She gave him a weak smile, “Why don’t you get some rest.”

“You know Teach, in Almyra, they have gods too and people blessed by the gods, just like Lady Rhea.”

The professor frowned at him questioningly, but nodded in acknowledgment.

“But in Almyra, those people are different from normal people. They have the heart of both man and woman. We call them Twin Heart.”

Teach’s eyes were impossibly wide. She moved her hand to her heart, like a question.

“You don’t follow the Almyran god, but yes, I think you are Twin Heart too. Maybe you are blessed by the goddess of this land?”

Teach rubbed at her face, “Truly?”

“Yes, truly. I’ll take you back to my hometown one day and you can meet them, the Twin Hearted.”

She… No, they. Even though she wasn’t part of the Almyran priesthood, Claude supposed he ought to treat his professor with the same respect. They reached out to take his hand and clasped it in both of theirs.

“Thank you,” they said. Claude was startled to notice that they looked like they were about to cry.

“Hey Teach, do you want to borrow my clothes?” He asked, trying to distract them, “I’m much larger than you, so I think my shirt ought to hide your figure if you wear it over your usual armour. I’m sure Hilda would be happy to cut your hair as well.”

They squeezed his hand tighter, “People will ask.”

“We’ll tell them that you got your clothes dirty, and for the future, we could ask Ignatz to buy some clothes for me and I’ll pass them to you to keep.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I’ll run back and get my clothes now. Do you want me to get Hilda?”

“No. I can tie it,” she paused, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll just be happy for you to return to your usual self.”

They smiled at him, “This will help.”

He smiled back, “Then that’s all the thanks I need.”

* * *

Teach walked into the classroom on Monday, looking like a new person, and Claude meant that literally. 

Gone was the messy bun. Their shoulder length hair had been pulled up over their head, making it look like they had shaved sides. They wore Claude's white button-down with a pair of breeches and riding boots. Their coat was back to being slung around their shoulders, except that over the large shirt, their shoulders looked broader. Their eyes were clear and their stance was confident. 

"Professor!" Ignatz exclaimed and then opened and closed his mouth a few times as he processed what he wanted to say, "You look…"

"Different?" Marianne suggested.

"Different?!" Leonie said incredulously, "Professor, you look like a man!"

The corners of Teach's mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly at this. "My clothes were dirty," they stated.

"Professor, I like it!" Raphel boomed, "You look like me, just without the muscle!"

"I'm not sure that the professor would like to be compared to you, Raphel," Lorenz said, shaking his head.

"It's quite the change," Hilda remarked tactfully.

Lysithea rolled her eyes, "Perhaps we could be getting on with the class now?"

Claude laughed, "Who cares, it's still Teach under that, right?"

Teach nodded, the barest of smiles still playing across her face, "Yes, now class, I'd like everyone to improve their authority. I noticed in the battle that we had last month that we were still having problems leading assigned soldiers…"

Claude leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. Things were finally back to normal.


End file.
